


Random Writings

by Delnic



Series: Ideas [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Blood, Broken Ichigo, Family, Gen, Hollow - Freeform, Schizophrenia, Torture, Trauma, distancing, hollows - Freeform, makeshift family, recluse uryuu, schizophrenic Ichigo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delnic/pseuds/Delnic
Summary: I have a habit of writing stories but finding no purpose in finishing them so I've decided to post the starts of some in one fic. If you really like the sound of one, I could probably continue it. Each chapter is a new start.Ch 1 - A Broken Itinerary What if Ichigo landed in the TG realm?Ch 2 - Torturous WanderingsThe journey of a hollow.Ch 3 -  Make-Shift Dysfunctional FamilyIchigo, Chad, Uryu, Tatsuki and Orihime all under one roof, barely holding it together.Ch 4 - Incorrect diagnosis (Probably my best)Ichigo, a boy who claims to see the dead, is diagnosed with schizophrenia.Ch 4 can now be found here http://archiveofourown.org/works/11925804





	1. A Broken Itinerary

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is only short, just something I wrote when I was bored. I have an inkling of a story behind this one which isn't really revealed in the extract. I was thinking originally Ichigo being ripped from his own world and placed in the Tokyo Ghoul realm, as a half-ghoul but with a bit of a twist.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Ichigo landed himself in the Tokyo Ghoul universe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't tag this as Tokyo Ghoul because that parts not in the start explicitly.

Crisp, tainted air rushed into his lungs as he gulped down the atmosphere, as though he had never taken a breath prior to this moment. This same air pricked at his skin, provoking his hairs in such a manner that caused them to stand on end. It also served another purpose; a warning. A warning which his senses had yet to recognise, still lagged by confusion. He noticed the cold next, it was seemingly seeping into his pores, chilling the very marrow of his bones... which appeared to be broken? How many? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he really didn't want to move. However, he did notice how rather odd what he presumed to be the ground felt. He was sprawled across an incredibly lubricated surface, as though it had been smothered with some sort of slick liquid. That was when the stench hit him, he recognised it all too well.

Blood.

Exhaustion prevailed no more as he snapped his eyes wide open only to freeze, staring at the scene which lay before him. The amount of red that he faced was mortifying, setting off an immeasurable amount of alarms in his brain, every instinct urging him to move, to run far, far away. But he couldn't muster the power to comply, his body and brain were practically disconnected. Paralysis dominated him. 

There was more to the room than blood, although it seemed to almost coat the entirety of it. He appeared to be in some sort of warehouse, the walls lined with many shelves - their contents he didn't bother to note; crate lifting machinery donning the label “CAT” (a moderately common brand) was scattered around, disused and the place was incredibly spacious, which made the concerning amount of crimson even graver. Everything ticked the criteria for a standard warehouse, aside from the results of a possible earlier discord. Shock was evidently overcoming him, being able to analyse his surroundings was not something he would consider normal under the circumstances. However, he revelled in it, allowing himself to continue his observations while ignoring the pressing matter of his immobility. He turned his attention to himself, taking in the damage and found the strength to will his body to at least prop itself against the wall, legs simply dragging haplessly as he did so. He took an itinerary of sorts -

\- Both legs broken in numerous places  
\- One arm fractured  
\- Bruised lung  
\- Dehydrated  
\- Severe blood loss  
\- Lower spinal cord injury  
\- Minor inflictions upon face  
\- Six broken ribs

And that was all he could tell from a quick and limited examination, he didn't grow up in a clinic without picking up at least the bare minimum in terms of health. Final consnsus? Whatever happened to him had been disastrous, and that was without taking the scenery into account. But what exactly _had_ happened? He didn't have the time to look through his memories.

Tap, tap, tap...

The tapping of formally dressed footwear strolling across the warehouse warranted his attention. But it wasn't a stroll, no. There was purpose. Disguised by a casual facade. A malicious purpose. Headed straight for him. A beeline towards injured prey. A calm and collected predator. A heinous intent. No.

This was the muted stride of Aizen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Tell me and I might write it up in full


	2. Torturous Wanderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not going to reveal too much but you can quite easily gather what type of creature the being is and possibly guess who it could be, though, the latter would be harder.
> 
> Regardless, this is his tortuous wanderings.
> 
> EDIT: Decided to reveal that it's a hollows journey in the summary :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first wrote this, I was very tempted to write it out properly, but now it has competition.

Death had not been peaceful for the forsaken soul, to say the least. He was aware of that as much as he wandered through the town, aching with hunger. Something buried deep within him was saying that this was not right, that he simply couldn't satisfy this need no matter how much he longed to, but he _needed_ to. Physical pain coursed through his veins purely because of the extremity of the desire. It was a mash-up of sorrow, agony and emptiness all twisted together and knotting, excruciatingly so. He wanted nothing more than to just end his misery and saw no reason as to why he shouldn't, aside from the small voice's desperate pleas and it was tiny in comparison to the great beastly craving that shadowed him. Losing all hope, he gave in. 

His grotesque form stomped through the streets of some place somewhere of some description. It didn't really matter where, he just needed to quell his roaring appetite. It wasn't long before he laid eyes on something that appealed to his cravings, sending all senses into overdrive, target locked on. Utilising his huge legs, he launched himself at his prey and consumed it in one fatal swoop, but it didn't banish his famine – not one bit. He needed more. _Much more_.

But there wasn't any more where he was, not unless he travelled for a long while. He shouted about his displeasure but a wretched screech escaped from him instead, reverberating through the interlocking alleyways and passages of his current location. He stopped for a second, stunned, but soon returned to his hunt, having forgotten about what had just transpired in mere moments. His cravings were all powerful, taking full control of his thoughts and dictating his every action.

It wasn't long before someone had heard him and soon a being, who sent very mixed messages through his head, was in pursuit. He knew that consuming it would surely satisfy his needs, almost completely. But he also knew that it was dangerous for that very same reason. His emotions wavered and he stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to do next with no one signal to guide him. This confusion induced paralysis allowed for the being to catch up to him. 

Before he knew it, his arm was gone. 

He screeched again, this time with extreme anguish, the unholy sound rang through the neighbourhood. Alarm bells and sirens set off in his brain while his instincts told him to run far away and never return. With a single dominant impulse taking lead once again, he was set in motion and ripped a hole in the fabric of space, a black crack across the street, tearing yet not tearing into the house across from him. He slipped inside but wasn't quick enough to avoid the severing of his milky white tail.

He was now moderately safe - from the dangerous being at least. Despite this, he didn't take the time to observe his bland, new surroundings for he didn't care enough or maybe perhaps he didn't have the capability to retain such information. Regardless, he limped onwards, somewhat aimlessly. He was injured and he didn't know what to do, it just hurt. Everywhere. His soul was still twisting and meshing with the same madness of starvation and now he had to deal with the physical loss of certain limbs to add to the mess. Nothing made sense, it just hurt. So, he did the only thing he could think to do, scream. 

That was a bad idea.

Strong and fast, a creature not too dissimilar from himself galloped towards him. It wasn't any stronger than him, he could tell. It would've been an even match had the circumstances been different. However, he was gravely damaged and the odds were not in his favour. All he could do was weakly raise his one arm in an attempt to block the vicious bite of his opponent, only for it to be batted away easily as if it were as light as a feather.

He didn't feel much pain in his second death. Actually, it was a relief. An escape from the seemingly never-ending torture that had been his mind. He may not have lived for more than a day but it was enough to recognise that it wasn't a life worth living. 

Besides, whether he knew it or not, it wouldn't be his last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Tell me and I might write it up in full


	3. Make-Shift Dysfunctional Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lives of Orihime, Chad, Ichigo, Uryuu and Tatsuki after something bad happened. Not sure what yet, I'll leave that for if I do continue this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could become something but I'm unsure as to what yet, like whether to make it AU or not etc.

“Ichigo?”

The orange haired man sat crossed-legged, perched upon the brick slats of the small house's roof, basking in the twilight of the night. A cool breeze lazily coursed through the air, nipping at his already pale skin and ebbing away at any colour left in his cheeks. The moon was almost full and glared down, dashing himself and the building in monochrome shades with a dash of silver. It looked as though it might even snow that night yet he did not seem to be planning on retreating to the comforts of the indoors anytime soon. In fact, his eyes were somehow vacant, as though nothing was going on inside his skull. Comatose. 

“Ichigo.”

He blinked a few times and life returned to him like a dead body reanimated. The firm tone had awoken him from his waking slumber. He slowly shifted himself so that he could identify the source of the voice, his hair swishing more as he faced the wind's current. A woman had joined him, in a fashion. She was peering out of the attic window, the way he had gotten to where he currently sat. Not that he couldn't get there without it, that method was just more convenient at the time. Like using the door instead of a window. She lifted herself a little higher, allowing for hair to be taken up by the breeze, flowing ahead of her, resulting in her having to tuck it behind her ears. There was a lot more to her face colour wise than the one she had addressed.

“Orihime” He acknowledged her. “...I didn't realise you were here”  
The girl smiled meekly. “Of course not, I'm a top grade ninja from the world class ninja school, ninja high” She joked as per usual but her tone only half backed her up, there was a solemn note to her voice.  
Ichigo smiled too, faintly. She could tell it was forced.  
“I brought you a little something to eat” She explained before ducking back into the attic and returning with a plate of questionable substances.  
“It's green mint laced bread and tuna spread topped with sprinkles” She gestured to the 'meal' in her hands. “But Tatsuki said it was inedible and made something as well” She continued, ducking down for a second time and balancing what was presumably Tatsuki's meal on a brick slat. “Ham and Cheese sandwiches, seems plain but the bread is really nice. Plus it's all that's in the fridge at the minute”  
“Thanks Orihime and tell Tatsuki the same for me, please” Ichigo responded, but made no move to take the food from her.  
“I'll just leave it here” She concluded and left Tatsuki's and her own plate balancing precariously on the slats. Ichigo nodded and she clambered back down into the attic. Ichigo didn't move.

“What did he say?” Chad asked in his usual impassive tone. He was sat in the corner of the attic, plucking absentmindedly on an acoustic guitar. The area was quite small, even more so when compared to Chad, donned with various posters and drawings upon the walls. It turned out that Uryuu also had a knack for traditional art as well as sewing and the small room had soon become a showcase of his various works. Most of them were of scenery or costume designs but there were a few larger pieces featuring all those who lived in the house, including himself and those closest to him. There were also the occasional small portraits of those who had left an impression on him, such as a couple of role models as well as people they all had known, once. It wasn't just Uryuu who had transformed the space though, there were dashes of everyone's personalities scattered around. Chad's music sheets and gear; Orihime's cute plushies; Ichigo's momentos; Tatsuki's medals and trophies. Not to mention other bits and pieces people had left them with.

“The usual... I wish he'd eat what we made him” Orihime informed Chad, looking up to the roof window wistfully. Chad only grunted in response, a man of few words. He continued his little melody, giving the scene a thoughtful ambience. Orihime just stood there for a little while, soaking it all in, lost in thought. Once she was satisfied, she left Chad to his strumming and made her way to the living room, tip-toeing past Uryuu's room along the way. She took a second to peer silently through the crack in his doorway, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was working on this time. It was a large spread, matching an empty space on the slanted ceiling of the attic. From what she could make out, it was dark and from the flash of orange she speculated it was of the makeshift family, including at least herself or Ichigo. Not wanting to get caught, she didn't allow herself much longer to investigate and moved along. Uryuu had been more of a recluse since Ichigo had started distancing himself from him, while he would never admit it, it was clear to Orihime that he was upset on a very deep level. 

She soon found herself in the living room where Tatsuki was slumped across the tired sofa, flicking through channels with only half open eyes. She didn't even look up when she heard Orihime enter, but she shifted, alerting Orihime that her presence was notified. Tatsuki had also changed, she was a lot less energetic these days and seemed to spend almost all her time either giving it her all at the gym or lying around, exhausted from the former. However, she wasn't distancing herself or blocking everyone out like Ichigo and Uryuu. No, she was still up for a chat and when she did, her old self would return, like when they had made Ichigo something to eat earlier. Orihime had been pottering about the kitchen and the strange mix of aromas had aroused Tatsuki from her napping. She soon was laughing at Orihime's concoction and sought out to make her own meal for him before heading out to work. That was the third thing Tatsuki did, work. Her job was at a call centre and she despised it although when Orihime asked why she went on with it, she had replied: “Well, work for your hobby and eventually your hobby might become your work”. Orihime had decidedly just left her to it. She supposed that working at a bread shop wasn't all that glorious but she found it to be enjoyable and there was always spare just-out-of-date bread to take home, like the tiger bread Tatsuki had used to make Ichigo a sandwich. 

Orihime sat herself down on the armchair to the side of the sofa Tatsuki was sprawled across.  
“Put the Food Network on” She told Tatsuki, more so to stop the annoying stream of unstable sound from all the different channels than for her enjoyment.  
“Gotcha” Tatsuki replied and inputted the channel number. A kindly middle-aged woman flickered onto the screen, rolling pin in hand, making some sort of cake from what Orihime could gather. The minutes crawled by slowly and she soon found that she had lost track of what the woman was cooking, simply staring blankly at the screen. The programme was nearing its end when Tatsuki spoke up. 

“Hey 'hime” She said, tiredness ringing in the croaking of her voice.  
“Yeah?” Orihime replied, slowly lifting herself from her trance.  
“It's 4 am...” Tatsuki continued, trailing off.  
“Yeah?” Orihime repeated, equally tired.  
“We've both got work tomorrow... well today”  
“Yeah... in 3 hours” Orihime nodded in agreement.  
“We're going to be dead” Tatsuki stated with a tinge of regret plaguing her words.  
“Yup” Orihime agreed again and set an alarm on her phone for 2 hours and 30 minutes while Tatsuki turned off the TV. Neither could be bothered to switch off the lights and they fell asleep within moments none the less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Tell me and I might write it up in full


	4. Incorrect Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo, a boy who claims to see spirits, is diagnosed with Schizophrenia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this one, late last night, I was thinking "what if Bleach was set in a world where the supernatural elements don't actually exist" and thought up ways to explain the characters abilities. If I continue this, I plan on giving the whole squad reasons and then making out so that it actually is REAL and everyone else just doesn't have the capacity to comprehend it.

“Ichigo, do you know why you're here?”

The Orange haired man looked up at the person who had just addressed him, a gleam of defiance in his eyes. He was in a doctor's office, one which was much more modernised than the Kurosaki clinic. But it wasn't any doctors office, he knew the man who sat before him, he knew him well. 

Ryuken Ishida.

“Yes” He replied, simply, causing his dad to give him a warning look. _”Watch your tone”_. He didn't even need to speak to get the message across. With a muted sigh, Ichigo continued.

“I sent three people to the hospital” He didn't want to go on any further.  
“My hospital” Ryuken corrected him. “And why would you do something like that?”  
“Because they were disrespecting someone” Ichigo really didn't want to go any further.  
Ryuken looked at him pointedly, making it clear that his answer had not been satisfactory. Ichigo rolled his eyes.  
“They were disrespecting Aimi's grave” He already knew what was coming and _really_ didn't want to go further.  
“A grave on the pavement?” Ryuken questioned him with his usual incredulous tone.

“There was a vase”  
“So?”  
“Someone died there”  
“How do you know”  
“Just do”

A few moments passed. Ryuken had his arms crossed, his finger impatiently tapping rhythmically on his medical apparel. Ichigo scowled at the floor and didn't need to raise his head to know what his father was doing, he could feel the disapproving stare boring into the back of his head. When Ichigo had solidified the fact that he wasn't going to speak, Ryuken reached the end of his patience and stated what everyone present was thinking.

“You attacked some children because they disrespected a figment of your imagination” He stated, topping off his conclusion with a disappointed sigh.  
Ichigo glowered at the doctor, hoping his glare would carry all the words he didn't have the energy to speak. He wanted to scream at him, again, about how these people were not imaginary, about how they're ghosts and how the “children”, who were just the same age as he was, had desecrated Aimi's place of death. Of course, he was going to teach the offenders a lesson, violence just happened to be the only method he could teach through and it worked. But, alas, he wasn't going to say a word. He'd tried that, screamed at the white haired man until his dad had to be called into restrain his own son. Since then, he was always accompanied by the old man during his doctor appointments, especially with Ryuken. 

“You've not been taking your medication as prescribed, if at all, have you?” The man asked but he already knew the answer.  
“...The side effects” Ichigo muttered weakly, he wouldn't look the man in the eyes.  
“I offered to sort out therapy sessions for you but you refused” Ryuken responded.  
“They just made me feel... ill.. and they didn't even work!” He raised his voice, disregarding the man's last statement.  
“Ichigo.” He flinched as his father scolded him sternly, he didn't say much, he didn't have to.  
“It happens” Ryuken said simply. “We'll just have to keep trying different medications until we find the one that's right for you. But not yet”  
Ichigo turned and stared the man squarely in the eyes.  
“I just said they don't work” He reinstated, confusion painted across his face, punctuating each word for emphasis.  
“How long did he actually take them for?” The doctor spoke over him, directing his question at Isshin.  
“I don't know exactly because he wouldn't tell me the truth-”  
“I did! I swear, two weeks I did!” Ichigo protested against the false accusation to no avail, his father just continued on, ignoring him.  
“-But not long enough, I would know as I also work in the same field”  
Ryuken nodded. “Yes, agreed. Okay, while I can't force you to do this, if you're deemed either a danger to yourself or to society due to your violent actions, someone else can” Ryuken crossed his legs and watched Ichigo expectantly, ensuring that his threat did not go unheard.  
Ichigo gave the man one more defiant glare but he understood, he was defeated.  
“I'll reissue another subscription, although you could do this yourself-” Ryuken began but was interjected by Isshin.  
“I'd rather not let my personal feelings get in the way, plus my clinic is not specialised like departments in your hospital are” He explained himself, only for Ryuken to nod and finish his sentence.  
“And I have the understanding that Ichigo _lost_ his last batch so I'll give you the same the last time when we first started” He promptly wrote up a prescription for the pharmacy and handed it over to Isshin. The man took the piece of paper and planted a strong arm on Ichigo's shoulder, signalling to him that it was time to go. 

The old man hadn't always been this stern. He was usually quite goofy and had a habit of surprise attacking his son in order to “teach” or “discipline” him, no wonder Ichigo always resorted to violence for his own lessons. However, ever since Ichigo had been picked up by the police, everything had changed. He'd always said he could see ghosts but the old man had dismissed it as him being playful as a child and something to worry about another day. Then, as he grew older, he didn't shift the idea of being able to see the departed and got into street violence with his friend “Chad”, a monster of a boy who never spoke. Isshin had turned a blind eye to it until his son had been convicted of “attempted murder”. Ichigo swore he had no intentions of killing anyone, just that they “humiliated the dead” which gave him reason to be angry. Luckily, Isshin had connections in the police force including a man by the name of “Byakuya Kuchiki” and was able to paint the case out as an unfortunate accident. Despite this close call, Ichigo had continued his malicious acts and blamed spirits, causing his father to turn to his own profession to try and fix things. Recently his old silly self had been reserved for his daughters, alone.

The two walked along the sidewalk in silence, en route to the local pharmacy. The tension was thick, almost suffocating, and Isshin practically radiated negative vibes. Ichigo kept his eyes trained straight ahead, it was all he could do to prevent himself from crumbling under the pressure of the atmosphere he trudged along in, wanting to live through it rather than break it. As their destination grew closer, Isshin grasped Ichigo's shoulder, causing the boy to jolt slightly and hunch his shoulders until he realised his father's action was not a menacing one, but of the comforting kind. He nervously looked up to his dad's face, which was crinkled by worry lines. _Has he always looked this haggard?_ Ichigo wondered but wasn't allowed much time to ponder. The tall man sighed deeply and continued to look straight on as he spoke.  
“What are we going to do with you?” He asked, absent-mindedly, there was no hint of the disappointment the man had harboured in the doctor's office.  
Ichigo shrugged and let his gaze shift to the floor, shoulders sinking under his father's grasp.  
“I'd say it's okay, but it's not, it's really not” The man went on. “You keep getting yourself tangled up in all of these issues, all of this violence, because of something you can't really control without help. You've not got the best role models either, I'm not afraid to admit that. There's me and that friend of yours, Chad-”  
Ichigo looked up, ready to protest on behalf of his friend.  
“Who seems like a nice guy but he's in that world, the streets”  
Ichigo's expression cooled.  
“And that's not good for you. I don't really know how you got into it all, that's my failings as a parent, and I wish you hadn't but it is what it is” 

The man stopped walking and turned to face Ichigo, placing his other hand on Ichigo's empty shoulder, holding him firmly and looking down at him with an expression which was hard but tinged with a sense of sadness.

“We are going to fix this” He said firmly, slightly shaking Ichigo as he did. The boy just stared on in silence, not quite vacantly but somewhat close.  
“We are going to fix this, we are” The man repeated and Ichigo looked away.  
“...I don't know if I can” He mumbled.  
“WE. We are. I may be horrible at times, I may scold you and berate you but it's only because I love you and sometimes you need a reality check. You're not alone on this, okay?” The man waited, tolerating the lengthy pause, allowing Ichigo to respond in his own time. The boy looked up, with a mix of vulnerability and hope in his expression, and nodded.

“I'm not alone” He said quietly.

A grin broke out across Isshin's face and patted Ichigo roughly on the back. Trust his father to ruin the moment.  
“That's my boy! Now get back to your old self so I don't have to keep this serious guy thing up for much longer!” He exclaimed triumphantly in his usual tone.  
Ichigo smiled despite himself “Yeah whatever goatface” He mocked, not too enthusiastically but he mocked none the less. Isshin took it as a good sign.  
“Now, I'm entrusting you with picking these up for yourself. Don't throw them away this time, or I might start jump kicking you earlier than I already do!” He threatened jokingly, but there was certain sincerity behind his words. With his job done, the man strolled in the direction of his house, hands in his pockets, whistling.

Ichigo soon went about his own business promptly after the man was out of his sight and did what he was told despite the cackling in the back of his head.

_”You won't kick me out with medicine... king”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Tell me and I might write it up in full


End file.
